


The Wing Fic

by GertieCraign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Ellipsis Abuse, Feathers & Featherplay, Harmonic Bonding, If Cas came back and had more than a day or two with Jack, It's a new thing I just made up, Jack is not involved in the kink or featherplay, Jack is not involved with any form of sex, M/M, Observant Jack Kline, Swearing, The sexy bits are all Dean and Cas, Think 'protective dom during Pon Farr providing after care while extremely high' and you've got it, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Winged Castiel, Winged Jack Kline, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 10:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: If Cas had had more than one or two days with Jack, before it all went to hell, he might have started teaching him the finer points of being a young angel - namely, how to manifest and care for his wings. Dean and Sam might have taught him how to be a human kid - how to play and wrestle like a human.In turn, Jack might have noticed some things...and bluntly pointed them out to a wholly unprepared Cas and Dean.These things might have happened.I really kinda needed these things to happen.#goddammit Dabb!





	1. Brand New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HazelDomain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/gifts).



> HazelDomain put out the call for a fic that had Cas grooming Jack's wings. She wanted blatant erotic porn. She got me, instead. Sorry, HD. I'll do my best in later chapters when it's just the two grown-ups. But don't hold your breath.
> 
> UPDATE: I just removed the Gen tag because I think we're gonna cross the line a bit in later chapters. I'm still working on it, so we'll see what happens.

 

“I’m not sure,” Jack said. His face was contorted into an expression of confusion and concentration as he stared at the floor of the war room.

“There should be a mild sense of...pressure. Starting below the base of your neck and leading down to just above your waist.” Cas stood in front of him, regarding the boy with a concerned frown. He wasn’t sure how else he could explain this to him.

“That feeling goes further down. Like...all the way to here,” Jack said, turning to show Cas. He pointed to a spot a few inches below his waist.

Cas squinted and tilted his head. “Hmm. Perhaps your wings extend a bit further. Try removing the rest of your clothing. The constrictions at your waist may be preventing a natural manifestation.”

Jack went about removing his shoes and jeans.

“Dean said I should never be naked. I mean...he didn’t say exactly that, he just...was angry about me being naked...at the time.” Jack was frowning again, rehashing the memory as he pulled off his socks.

Cas nodded, knowingly. “Dean has an enormous number of rules regarding nudity and appropriate attire. I’ve never really understood. I find it’s easiest to simply remain fully clothed in his presence.”

“You take your coat off sometimes,” Jack noted, stripping out of his boxers and tossing them aside.

“That seems to be the only item I can remove and not risk upsetting him in some way.”

“He looks at you alot,” Jack said and then began staring at the floor again, concentrating

Cas squinted at him.

Jack kept his focus on the floor, but continued to speak. “Maybe he just wants you to look the same all the time. I think looking at you makes him happy. Except...sometimes he seems sad when he’s looking at you.”

Cas’s brow deeply furrowed. He had no idea what to do with that information.

There was a sudden pressure change in the room and Cas’s thoughts were focused back on Jack.

“That was easy,” the boy said. His voice was hushed as he stared, wide-eyed, at his own wings slowly spreading out to either side of him.

Cas stared as well, fighting back a wave of dread. He knew Lucifer’s nephilim would be extraordinary in every way, so he’d expected Jack’s wings to be at least as impressive as an archangel’s. He did not expect them to look like this.

Jack unfolded his wings tentatively. He was a little awkward in his ability to control the angles, so he was swivelling his head side to side, making sure he didn’t hit anything with them.

The wings were huge, noticeably bigger than an archangel’s. They’d spread across the entire war room and they still weren’t open all the way.

The tips of the longest feathers started to drag across the tiled walls and Jack instinctively raised his wings, giving them more room. It still wasn’t quite enough, but it allowed Cas to see the additional layers of feathers along the inner wing. He gaped at them before catching himself and pinching his mouth closed. No other angel had that many layers. He hadn’t seen the backs of the wings yet, but he assumed he’d find more there.

The span and the number of feathers was enough of a shock, but it was the color that Cas found most alarming. All of Jack’s feathers were pure white - the vanes and the barbs. There was no barring or edging or color variation whatsoever that would give any indication of his order or his rank. _‘He has no need for either,’_ he thought, keeping his expression neutral as Jack unwittingly displayed proof of his superiority over every angel ever created.

Cas stifled a shudder, not wanting Jack to see. The boy was innocent - revelling in the newness of the world around him and in his revealed angelic form. He deserved to have that joy, even if only for a short time. There was no need to crush it by telling him what every angel would think when they saw those wings.

“It should be very easy, now that you’ve done it once,” Cas assured him, forcing himself out of his momentary stupor. “I’m sorry my initial explanation wasn’t very helpful.”

“It was enough,” Jack said. A smile crept across his face and he turned to look at Cas. “I could feel them there. I didn’t know what they were.”

Cas smiled back at him and moved to his right, approaching Jack’s wing cautiously.

“They’re big,” Jack gushed, looking at them and running his fingers through the inner feathers. He moved the wings up and down, back and forth. They were small movements, but enough to make it abundantly clear his control over the gigantic appendages was sketchy at best.

“Try not to let them touch any rough surfaces, when you can avoid it,” Cas cautioned. He turned and grabbed a small cloth and a squirt bottle from the map table. “Your feathers are very durable but they can be abraded against some surfaces. They’ll wear out quickly that way.”

“What happens if they wear out?”

“When a feather becomes damaged enough, it’ll be discarded and a new feather will grow to replace it. The little ones don’t matter as much. You can lose quite a few of those and it won’t affect you. But the long ones near the tips - those are your main flight feathers,” Cas began pointing as he referenced each section. “These that make up the lower edge are important for controlled flight. As well as these along here. If you lose more than one or two from any of those areas, it will be a little harder to fly for a while. If you lose enough of them, or if you lose them from only one wing, you won’t be able to fly at all.”

Jack’s face tightened with concern. The fact that his wings weren’t indestructible seemed to be disturbing news to him. He started to pull them inward.

“You’re fine in here,” Cas said with another smile. “As I said, they’re quite durable. It takes a lot of trauma to break or damage them. I just want you to learn to be aware of what you touch with them. How you hold them… You’ll find that you can do nearly anything and they’ll still be ok.”

Jack was still focused entirely on his wings, but Cas knew he was listening. The boy moved them with more precision, now, keeping the tips well away from the walls, the fixtures, the equipment in the room.

“You’ll want to keep them in their non-physical form nearly always, but...if you plan to manifest them, you’ll need to know how to properly care for them. The state of your wings has a tremendous impact on your ability to utilize parts of your angelic nature. And on your life, in general. You do not want to lose your ability to fly.”

Jack looked at him very intensely - an expression of concentration and curiosity on his face. He tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t manifest them very often?”

“No, there’s...rarely any need. Especially in recent years.” Cas folded the cloth he was holding around the fingers of one hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut him off.

“May I see yours?”

Cas halted his movements for a long moment before lightly clearing his throat and giving the boy a kind smile. “Perhaps later,” he said and turned his attention back to Jack’s wing. He very gently took hold of a small group of feathers at the top edge and slid the cloth behind and beneath them. “You’ll want to always move with the direction of the barbs along the vane...like this,” he said, demonstrating.

“It tickles,” Jack said, giggling and beginning to wiggle and squirm, but trying hard to keep his wing still.

Cas snorted softly and continued his instruction. “If you go in the opposite direction, the barbs will separate causing gaps and fraying. The more barbs that become separated, the greater the resistance you’ll experience when you try to use your wings.”

He lightly coated an individual feather with water from the squirt bottle and used his fingers to very gently wipe the vanes, pinching any separated barbs back into place. The barbs easily locked together, making a smooth, shiny, perfectly flat vane.

Jack giggled a bit louder as Cas pulled his cloth covered hand away and the feathers slid back into place. The seraph gave him a mischievous grin and reached up quickly, tucking his fingers into the feathers under the large wrist joint. He curled his fingers and gave the sensitive spot a couple of flicks. Jack squealed and laughed hard, pulling the wing away and instinctively wrapping his arms around his sides.

Cas chuckled, smiling at him as he set the water bottle and cloth on the table.

“What if they get all the way wet?” Jack asked, still recovering from the giggling fit. “I’ve seen videos of birds that live in the water. Some of them don’t fly. Others do. But doesn’t the water make wings heavy? Would it be bad to get them wet?” Jack was about to unleash several more questions but Cas cut him off.

“They can get wet. An angel’s wings are only similar to a bird’s wings. There are significant differences. So, to answer your question - no, it isn’t a problem if you get them wet. You simply shake the excess water away.” Cas made a few more tiny adjustments to Jack’s feathers, though he couldn’t find anywhere to really focus - the wings were so new and pristine, they didn’t need any grooming.

“Actually,” Cas said with a small nod, “you’ll find that bathing your wings in water can be quite pleasurable. Similar to the way humans enjoy swimming or soaking in a bath.”

“There’s a swimming hole!” Jack proclaimed. “Sam took me there last week. It’s big! Big enough, I think. I’ll show you!” He reached out toward his mentor.

Cas started to protest but snapped his mouth shut when he found himself standing outside in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Jack trotted a few steps away from him and started stretching and flapping his wings, delighting in the feel of them. He beat the air hard a couple of times and laughed when he was lifted slightly off the ground.

“Jack!” Cas demanded. “This is not a good idea. We’re far too exposed out here.” He stepped toward the boy, when Jack seemed to ignore him by continuing to play.

“No one’s around,” Jack assured him. “I already checked.” He angled his wings to catch the most sunlight, smiling at the changing sheen of his silken feathers. He flapped several more times, kicking up dust and bits of dried grass, then let the lower sections of his wings drag the ground a bit. That caused even more dust to get kicked into the air around him. He laughed again and then folded his wings closed and motioned with his arm.

“Come on,” he yelled, already running toward the relatively narrow strip of trees lining the creek.

“Jack!” Cas yelled. He looked around frantically, making sure they hadn’t been spotted, and then dove into the woods after him, grumbling to himself. He ducked down to pass under a tree branch and when he straightened up, he realized he’d lost sight of Jack.

The panic hit him hard and fast, so when Jack reappeared right next to him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw his arms around the kid or kick his ass. Jack didn't give him time to decide. He grabbed Cas’s wrist and dragged him to a spot a few dozen yards further down the creek.

The boy bounced away to the edge of the water. He stared eagerly at the large, shallow pool.

“That water is likely filthy,” Cas grumbled as he got closer to the edge to peer in. He touched the surface with his hand, rubbing the water between his fingers and concentrating. He brought his hand up to his nose, then to his mouth, testing it. He huffed in defeat. The water was clean enough.

“Sam took me swimming here. It’s ok.” Jack jumped with both feet, splashing into the water.

Cas slumped, scanning their surroundings in every direction. He wasn’t going to have a chance to think any of this through or ensure the proper safeguards were in place. He’d have to just roll with it. Especially since Jack was already in the water and beginning to dip the edges of his wings.

“Come on!” Jack called to him.

“Alright. Just... Wait for me.” Cas dug through his coat for his phone and called Dean while he pulled off his boots, socks, coat, and jacket.

“Yeah, it’s me. I wanted to let you know Jack and I are at the...um...swimming hole.” He pulled down on his tie and slipped it out of his collar. “Apparently, Sam knows where it is. It’s in the creek that- Yes, that’s where we are.”

“Castiel!” Jack called out through a gigantic smile. “You’re right. It feels really good!” He splashed the water a bit more. “It’s awesome!”

Cas looked up at him and gestured an acknowledgement before going back to his conversation and trying to untuck and unbutton his shirt.

“Jack wanted to feel what it was like to get his wings wet and then he just-” He paused, listening. “His wings, yes.” His mouth opened slightly in silent protest and he rolled his head. “I’m _aware_ we are _outside_.”

His attention was drawn back to the water when he heard a large splash. Jack had lept into the deeper area and was now submerged up to his chest. Cas watched him, pinching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he continued to unbutton his shirt and cuffs.

“Well, we’re here now...and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” he said and quickly scanned the area again.

“If that will make you feel better,” he said wearily. He pulled the phone away from his face and hung up.

He tossed the phone on top of his coat and slipped out of his shirt, but paused when he started unbuckling his belt. Dean had just told him he’d be joining them and he knew his friend would likely balk if he stripped completely. He was almost certain to have at least one disapproving comment about Jack’s nudity. He unbuckled the belt and pulled it out of the loops, leaving the pants on. He bent down and rolled up the legs to his knees.

“Castiel!” Jack yelled. He smiled when he got the seraph’s attention. “Watch!” Jack stretched out his wings to either side and angled them almost flat against the surface of the water. With one strong pulse, they crashed down, sending a wave along the creek bed. He then lifted his wings quickly and a tremendous spray of water showered down on him and on the entire swimming hole. The droplets made a shimmering effect that was quite beautiful in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

Cas smiled fondly at him. When Jack lined himself up to repeat the action, Cas called out for him to wait. Jack obeyed, still grinning ear to ear.

Cas worked his way over to him and jumped into the deeper area as well.

“It feels so good,” Jack gushed. “The water pushes all the feathers at the same time.”

Cas nodded, still smiling.

“And look,” Jack continued as he spread his wings wide again. He bent over until the water was up to his neck in front and his back was mostly exposed. He angled his wings so that the front edge entered the water first. Then he lifted them, sending water coursing all along the backs of the wings. Most of the feathers were only slightly damp, so far, and the water slipped along the top of them off the back edge. “They don’t get all the way wet.”

“They will,” Cas assured him. “You’ll have to work at it a bit, before they’ll be completely wet.”

“But I put them all the way into the water?”

“Your feathers have a thin film of oil. Not nearly as much as the water birds you saw. Their feathers are heavily oiled, so they can be in the water and still stay dry.”

Jack looked back over his shoulder. “Is that why they’re shiny?”

“It’s part of the reason. Just remember to keep them clean, straightened and properly oiled, and they’ll always look the way they do now. I’ll teach you how to coat them, but...that’s something you’ll want to do in private.”

Jack looked a little confused and Cas shook his head. “Don’t worry. You’ll understand in time.”

Jack smiled again and repeated the scooping action that sent water along the backs of his wings. He did this a couple of times and then looked up at Cas with a conspiratorial smile.

“I wanna soak ‘em!” he said and stuck them entirely under the surface.

Cas snorted. “Well...that will eventually do it.”

“How do I do it quick?”

“You’ll need to...um...the best way is to leave them above the water and...flap them,” he said, trying to think of how to describe the motion.

Jack tried several times to do as Cas suggested. Each time, Cas tried to correct him and describe it a bit better, but he wasn’t being clear enough. Jack sighed in frustration.

“I don’t understand. Can you show me?”

Cas hesitated for a very long time. It was long enough for Jack to notice and his smile faded.

“You don’t want to show me,” he said, sounding incredibly hurt. He looked at Cas, searching for a reason in his friend’s eyes, then slowly lowered his head.

Cas watched Jack’s exuberant joy rapidly fading and it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Jack. It has nothing to do with you. It’s...um…” He stopped. This was his pride talking. There was no good reason to refuse to show Jack his wings other than his own insecurity. Jack already knew he couldn’t fly - he knew _something_ was wrong. It was only a matter of time before he’d learn how to see Cas’s true form anyway. He’d know who Cas really was - what he’d allowed himself to become - and Cas would have to tell him why.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed as Cas made a decision. He lightly cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders.

The light flutter drew Jack’s attention back to his friend. His smile returned and his own wings shivered with happiness and excitement.

It was a very sweet reaction. Jack had yet to learn to control his wings, so Cas was certain the boy really was delighted that his friend was willing to play with him. That gave him a little comfort. At least Jack hadn’t been instantly horrified, as Cas had feared. It made what he was about to do almost bearable.

“They’ve been...damaged. So, they might seem… They look a little different.”

He slowly began opening his wings. At the halfway point, he winced. His wings hadn’t been opened in a long time and he hadn’t manifested them at all in the last couple of years. Their physical form was stiff. Moving them hurt.

He never let the pain show. Muscles and tendons stretched, and after a few seconds the tension slowly began to ease, lessening the pain to a dull ache. He wasn’t able to get them fully extended, but they were open enough for a decent display.

Jack shamelessly stared, taking in every part of the seraph’s wings. He stepped forward, focusing on some of the longer, intact feathers hanging in a misshapen row from the area just below the upper edge of one wing. A thick, vertical scar kept the row from aligning. The feathers on either side pointed away from each other at a slight angle. Quite a few were missing.

Cas held still, allowing the examination and bracing for the questions he knew were coming. He hoped he’d be brave enough to answer honestly, in a way that Jack would fully understand. The boy’s opinion of him would degrade as a result, but that would happen someday very soon, anyway. He knew that. He’d been preparing himself for it.

Jack reached out tentatively and was about to take hold of one of Cas’s feathers. He looked questioningly at his friend. Cas nodded, giving permission.

The touch was very gentle - almost reverent. Cas couldn’t bring himself to watch. He just stood quietly and let the boy do as he wished.

Nearly a full minute passed before Jack stepped back and let his eyes sweep over his friend’s wings.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, still staring at them. He didn’t notice the shock on Cas’s face, so he continued. “The colors...there’s so many... And your feathers have all these cool...designs on them. Stripes and V-shapes...and all these little dots. And this part over here,” he said, sloshing water as he took a step to the side to point at a section further out. “They’re all different colors. Like a whole field of flowers. Except the flowers are brown and, um...other browns and...yellows and black and white…” He grinned. Then he turned his grin on Cas.

“They’re awesome,” he concluded. “Will mine look like yours someday? I want stripes!”

Cas stared at him...and then huffed out an uncharacteristically loud chuckle. It had been a very long time since a situation had turned around on him that fast. He smiled hugely and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Those...designs...are earned in battle. But something tells me, Jack...soldier or not, if you want stripes, you’ll have stripes.” He started chuckling again before he finished the sentence. It was contagious. Jack had no idea what the joke was, but he was laughing right along with him.

Cas shook his head, smiling, and reached out to pull the boy in for a hug. Jack happily reciprocated.

“Thank you,” Cas said, still hugging him.

“For what?”

“For thinking my wings are awesome,” Cas said. He chuckled again and then gave the boy another tight squeeze. “I needed that.”

“They are awesome,” Jack said, sounding at least a little confused. “But...you’re welcome. I think.”

Jack had his chin hooked over Cas’s shoulder and could see the upper part of the area where his wings met his human back. He noticed a lump with small feathers perfectly lining it, tucked up against the crease. Without thinking, he slid his hand down to investigate.

The instant Jack’s fingers made contact, Cas made an undignified noise and jerked away from the touch.

Jack was startled. He pulled his hand back immediately.

Cas took hold of Jack’s shoulders, keeping a small separation between them.

“Don’t touch that,” Cas said as calmly as he could.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered. Then his eyes opened very wide. “Did I hurt you?” he blurted, suddenly sounding extremely worried.

“No, Jack, not at all. No. That’s just...not...that’s not a place to touch. You shouldn’t...uh...touch. Don’t touch that,” he stammered.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

Cas let go of Jack’s shoulders and wiped a hand down his own face. He thought for a moment, wishing he could postpone this conversation for several thousand years, so he could figure out decent answers.

“There’s a book I can give you,” he finally said. He hoped that would make it clear they weren’t talking about this anymore. No such luck.

“Do I have one of those?” Jack shoved his arm behind himself and started running it along the seam of his inner wing and back. Cas immediately grabbed his arm and tugged it back forward.

“Don’t,” Cas said, far too loudly. He calmed himself and continued. “Don’t do that. Not out here.” He hesitated while his mouth tried to form words he couldn’t find. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“It’s...an oil gland. You have two of them. One on either side,” Cas said. When he opened his eyes again, Jack was once again reaching behind himself - this time with the other arm. “Don’t,” Cas corrected. His voice was much less harsh. “I’m sorry...there’s nothing wrong with...touching...um...touching your… Remember I said coating your feathers with oil is something you’ll want to do in private?”

Jack nodded slowly.

“You don’t want anyone to see you doing that. It’s not bad or wrong. It’s something you need to do...to keep your wings conditioned but...you want to be alone when you do that. Or with a companion. A...um...a special...person.” Cas winced. He absolutely did not mean to introduce that topic and he now hoped beyond hope Jack would stay focused on the oil glands.

Jack squinted. “Aren’t we companions?”

‘ _Shit_ ,’ Cas thought, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh...no. Well...I suppose...by the broader definition of the word-”

“We spend time together. We’re together right now. Doesn’t that make us companions.”

Cas sighed. “A companion...for an angel...means something different. A companion is...someone very special. Someone with whom the angel shares a very strong bond. Companions fight alongside each other. Protect each other. They share their thoughts, their hopes, their fears...things that are often very difficult for an angel to admit. Secrets. They’re the very best of friends. Also, they sometimes help each other with things like...grooming or...preening.” He said the last word softly, as though worried the forest around them might hear and judge.

“Wait...” Jack said, tilting his head and squinting even harder. “It this about sex?”

Cas closed his eyes.

“I didn’t think angels had sex without a vessel. They don’t reproduce. Why would they have sex?”

“It will make much more sense after you’ve read the book-”

“Is Dean your companion?”

Jack instantly knew he’d stepped across some invisible line. The look on Cas’s face made that abundantly clear, though it was impossible to tell if he was holding back a murderous rage or having a stroke.

“I really need you to read the book,” Cas deadpanned.

“Ok,” Jack said, nodding vigorously.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 _‘If it’ll make you feel better.’_ Dean scowled as his mind replayed the phone call. “Yeah, smart ass, it’s _exactly_ what I wanna be doin’ right now,” he grumbled. “Dick.”

He dug through the small ‘emergency extras’ bag he kept in the trunk, and found the pair of dark hospital scrub-pants. They were already folded up tightly, so he shoved them into his back pocket, grabbed his pistol and angel blade, and closed the Impala’s trunk lid with far more force than necessary.

He tucked away the weapons and took one last longing look into the car. There were three hot, fresh pizzas sitting in the passenger seat footwell, and twelve very cold beers in the cooler.

He shook his head, disgusted by the unfairness. He’d been really good this time. He’d gotten the toppings everyone liked, even Sam’s gross ones. He’d made a second stop just to get Jack some ginger ale, ‘cause the kid liked it for some reason. He’d even fought the temptation to pop open the box of breadsticks on the drive home, so they could all eat together like a family. He was _trying_ , god dammit! That should count for something!

He abandoned the feast and ran up the grassy hill next to the bunker. At the top, he paused for one beat to survey the surroundings, then took off across the mostly flat field.

He continued to grumble as he ran, fitting phrases between shortened breaths.

“Sure, Cas. Whatever the kid wants. And just...ya know... _whenever_. I got nothin’ better to do. I can drop everything. Run half a mile in the heat. Risk my ass being your backup, so the antichrist can take a fuckin' bird bath. No problem. Happy to help.”

He’d made it two thirds of the distance when he heard a large splash and the sound of laughter. Through the trees, he could make out very large shapes moving around awkwardly. They were bright white and stood out against the shaded background like a beacon. Soon Dean was close enough to realize those were probably Jack’s wings. His reaction was split between being excited at the prospect of finally getting to see manifested angel wings, and being pissed at Cas for allowing the kid to be dangerously unsubtle with them.

Another series of splashes sent spray high into the trees. Jack let out a very loud yell and the white wings thrashed wildly, sending more water to either side and causing a scene Dean was certain would be visible from space. He set his jaw and sped up.

When he dove through the treeline, his eyes began to adjust in the shade. He made it to the small path leading to the water and had a much clearer view of the swimming hole.

He stopped. There was very little that could have prepared him for this. Sure, they were just wings. He had a rough idea what they might look like already. And he’d seen a ton of seriously freaky stuff in his life, most of which he’d rather forget. Compared to the really _cool_ things he’d seen, though, he knew this sight would stay right up near the top of the list.

Jack’s wings were gorgeous. They were spread wide to the sides, white as snow against the backdrop of forest, and absolutely huge. Dean couldn’t even see more than just a part of the boy’s head peeking out from behind the upper edge of the wings. The feathers were completely drenched and they’d clumped in places, but they were so thick only tiny slivers of pinkish skin were visible. The feathers on his spine were the only ones that separated enough for Dean to make out part of the human shape attached to the gigantic appendages.

Jack was moving strangely. Dean didn’t exactly know how someone who’d sprouted ridiculously huge wings _should_ move, but it was intuitively obvious that Jack was trying hard to maintain his balance. Dean watched, pretty sure the kid wasn’t in danger, given the way he was laughing. He heard another burst of laughter, too - a low, rumbling chuckle that he instantly recognized.

Jack yelled again and spun ninety degrees. The water churned violently, and when Jack’s wings completed the direction change, Cas came into view.

Dean smiled. He could see why Jack had been moving so strangely. Jack and Cas were locked in combat, hands grabbing for a better hold on shoulders or biceps, legs adjusting in the deep water to stay balanced. Jack’s wings looked incredibly powerful and it seemed like they should have been enough to easily overwhelm his opponent, but the boy was flapping them awkwardly, trying to counter Cas’s far superior skills.

The smile plastered across Cas’s face was as dazzling as Jack’s white wings and Dean lost the attitude he’d had with him. He took a few more steps toward them, but stopped again when two large shapes popped open behind Cas. They stretched out wide and waved lazily for a moment or two, before flexing and rising high above his head. Cas held them perfectly poised and they tracked Jack’s movements like twin cobras lining up to strike.  

Dean’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t expected to see Cas’s wings, too. He blinked several times, making sure his eyes weren’t just messing with him.

“I see a dry spot, Jack,” Cas growled, teasing the boy with a mock-sinister expression. Jack started struggling much harder.

“No you don’t!” Jack yelled back at him. He started giggling, but then shouted in alarm. Two long, feathered, rod-shaped structures had separated from the upper edges of Cas’s wings, forming ominous looking V-shapes. He held them like that, letting Jack get a good look at what was coming for him before it happened.

Jack increased his struggle against his mentor’s vessel while he tried to angle his own wings further away. Cas didn’t let him get far.

The strike was lightning fast. Cas’s wings shot down and forward. The long rods hooked perfectly over the tops of Jack’s wings on either side of the boy’s shoulders, and clamped down.

Jack screamed through his laughter, shocked and struggling with everything he had against the unshakeable hold. Cas’s strategy was clear as soon as those great white wings began to thrash. The position he’d chosen for the hold prevented Jack from using the wings’ size for leverage. All the boy could do with them now was move them up and down a bit and wave the ends pathetically.

Cas was getting thrown around in the melée, but his hold was rock solid. Jack couldn’t shake him.

“Yep. Definitely dry,” Cas grunted. His vessel’s face flushed with the ongoing strain. “A big spot, right on top of your head.” He had total control at the moment, but it was obvious he was giving it all he had to maintain it. Even with the Vulcan-wing-pinch move, the kid was definitely stronger. Cas was winning by cunning, skill and stubbornness, alone. That wasn’t abnormal for Cas, of course, but the obvious discrepancy between his wings and Jack’s was a stark reminder of what Cas had lost.

Dean felt a momentary pang of sadness. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore. His friend had never elaborated and Dean had gotten the impression that it wasn’t the best topic, so he’d left it alone. Seeing his wings now, though, he understood.

As amazing as they were, Dean knew they used to be much bigger and fuller. He’d seen their shadows. Cas was missing most of the long feathers at the ends. Only a few of them remained and they looked slightly crooked with awkward gaps between, reminding Dean of missing teeth. Cas was also missing a large majority of the feathers that lined the lower half of his wings.

Dean had always wondered about the color, but he’d never really felt right about asking. At the moment, they were soaking wet, so the feathers just looked dark, with maybe a few lighter ones here and there and a disturbing amount of greyish-pink skin showing through. There were also some fairly dramatic scars, visible even at this distance. He tried not to dwell on those. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine how Cas had gotten them. There’d been so many opportunities in recent years.

Dean didn’t let the sadness last long. Cas’s wings, no matter how damaged, were still amazing and what he was watching him do with them right now - the way he’d used them to balance and track, and even intimidate, before he’d locked them onto Jack like vices - it was hands down one of the most bad-ass things Dean had ever seen and Cas’s wings easily moved all the way to the number one spot on his ‘cool shit’ list.  

“Sorry, Jack! Gotta fix it!” Cas yelled.

“No!” Jack screamed even louder when Cas expertly shifted their positions. He used one leg to swipe Jack’s feet out from under him, and then held onto the boy with his arms and his wings and shoved him entirely under the water. He was submerged for about one second before Cas brought him up. He kept lifting, raising the boy high up over himself and holding him in the air.

Jack spurtled and laughed and tried to blink the water out of his eyes.

“I dried off too much, too,” Cas announced casually, and then just let himself fall backward so they’d both go under this time. Jack screamed on the way down and was cut off by the mighty splash.

Dean laughed out loud. He’d made his way to a nearby tree and was leaning against it, watching the show. He was still laughing when the two of them resurfaced.

Jack noticed him standing there. He smiled at him and waved. Dean waved back.

Cas grinned when he saw his friend. He relaxed away from the wrestling match and tucked his wings closed.

Jack also closed his wings, but immediately opened them back up a bit and began fussing with them. They didn’t close the same way as before. Wet feathers don’t exactly slide alongside each other neatly - and he had a _whole lot_ of wet feathers. They bunched up uncomfortably.

Dean stepped away from the tree, pulling his t-shirt off as he strolled to a spot near the water’s edge.

“Be careful, old man,” he said, grinning at Cas as he squatted down to unlace his boots. “Pretty soon he’s gonna figure out how to use those things and whoop your ass. Don’t teach him all your tricks.”

Cas snorted and glanced at Jack. The boy was still fussing with his feathers.

“Well, don’t worry,” Cas assured his friend. “There’s a lot I’ll need to teach him before he’ll know ALL my tricks.”

As the last words left his mouth, Jack grunted in frustration and stretched his wings wide. He leaned forward, angling them as Cas had taught him and sent one enormous pulse downward into the water.

It was much stronger than the other times he’d done it. His discomfort had made him more eager.

The wave of water that left the front of his wings was enormous. Nearly a quarter of the water in the swimming hole rose up in a single wave that travelled straight up the creek.

Dean sat there with one boot halfway off, stunned by the power of that wingbeat.

Jack’s wing tilted to complete the movement and another ten percent of the water lept backward, utterly drenching the hunter and everything around him.

Dean whined a highly annoyed, “Aaaahhhh!”, as soon as he could open his mouth and not drown.

Jack looked over his shoulder at him. He was still bent forward, waiting for the pulse to come back and wash over his wings.

“Um,” Cas said as he stared at the large amount of water gushing back toward them. He didn’t have time for more. The water swelled and rushed over the top of the little waterfall at the front of the swimming hole, just as it had each time Jack had done this previously. This time, though, the pulse brought down the little shelf that had been serving as the waterfall. What they’d assumed was a stone ledge with some roots grown over it, turned out to be a solid wall of packed, rotting leaves, mud, gravel, sticks, roots and branches, all of which was covered in a thin layer of ooze. It was holding back another large pool of water behind it. That water rushed toward them, as well.

The debris and extra water inundated Cas up to his neck, and coated the lower two thirds of his wings. He’d popped them open in his failed attempt to retreat, so they were nicely covered is grossness, inside and out.

Jack was completely covered in debris - wings, head, body...everything. Dean caught the end of the wave, which was mainly filled with what got churned up from the bottom of the swimming hole. The amount of water was far greater than the first wave had been and he was now completely soaked _and_ covered in a layer of grit and mud.

The water rushed over the small barrier on the backside of the swimming hole and continued downstream. Debris covered the top of the water.

The three of them stared at themselves and at each other, in between wiping the gunge and water away from their eyes.

“Well, this was awesome,” Dean said. His usual sarcasm was diluted by fatigue and defeat. He pulled the completely soaked scrubs out of his back pocket and tossed them on the ground next to his equally wet t-shirt, then turned his boot upside down to drain it.

Jack started to lean into the water again to gently rinse himself off. Cas reached over and stopped him. He simply shook his head. The water was turbid and filled with debris. It wasn’t going to wash off anything for a while.

Jack looked around at the mess and slumped. “I ruined it,” he said.

“You didn’t ruin it,” Dean assured him. He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and shook his head in disgust. It was soaked and gritty, too.

“Sam really liked this. He’s gonna hate me.”

“You didn’t ruin it and Sam’s not gonna hate you. Ok? Stop with the dramatics.” Dean said as he stood. He stuck his t-shirt in the water and scooped up a mixture of water and debris. He pinched the edges together and raised it quickly over his head, letting the water filter through the fabric so he could at least rinse the grit off of his head and neck. He repeated the procedure for his arms.

“Natural dams build up, break, and build up again,” Cas explained. “This one could have broken loose at any time. The water will be clear again in an hour or two. It’s fine.” Cas looked at his own wings and then at Jack’s and he sighed. “Our wings are another matter.”

“C’mere, kid,” Dean said, as he rinsed away the clump of debris inside the t-shirt and filled it again.

Jack approached, clumsily climbing up the steep embankment onto the shelf of stone and gravel that made up the shallow section. Dean lifted the t-shirt, preparing to rinse Jack’s head and face. He looked up, just as the boy’s lower half emerged from the water.

“Oh, _come on!_ ” Dean yelled. “Seriously?!” He threw a highly annoyed look at Cas.

“He can’t have anything around his waist right now. His wings extend too far down his back.”

“So, that’s it?” Dean demanded. “You’re just gonna let this be the way it is every time his wings are out?”

“I haven’t really had time to give it much thought.” Cas snapped. His patience was quickly wearing thin. Dean’s snarky attitude was always grating, but right now, with his wings feeling overworked and filthy, Cas was finding fewer reasons to be patient with him.

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the pair of scrubs. “Here,” he said, shoving them toward Jack without actually looking at him. “Just hold these in front of yourself. Cover up your junk, at least.”

Jack took the scrubs and spent a moment figuring out what Dean meant. He lightly shook the pants out so they’d cover him and he held them up to his waist.

“That’s...good enough, I guess,” Dean said, still sounding bitchy but not barking at the kid anymore. He dipped the t-shirt in the water and lifted it, repeating the procedure he’d used on himself. “Close your eyes,” he ordered in a much gentler tone. He lifted the dripping shirt above Jack’s head and started rinsing his hair, face and neck.

Cas made his way over to his own pile of drenched clothing and began picking up the pieces. He stared dejectedly at his soaked phone and wondered if that rice trick would work this time. He hoped so. His friends would purchase a new one for him without a second thought, but it bothered him that they’d have to. They’d just purchased this one for him.

“Hold your arms out,” Dean said. Jack obeyed and his arms were quickly rinsed free of grit and debris as well. “Ok. If you wanna rinse anything else, you’re on your own. Just use the pants and do the same thing.” Jack nodded and took a couple of steps away.

Dean saw that Cas was still collecting his things so he spent a bit more time rinsing himself. The t-shirt was working fairly well. He tried to get as much grit off as he could, while he waited for his friend.

The water pushed the irritating sand along. Dean poured it in long lines, starting from his head and neck and running along his arms, chest or back. It felt really good. The day was hot and the water was just the right amount of cool. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the sensation.

“Castiel?” Jack asked. He’d stopped rinsing himself when he noticed the look on the seraph’s face. “Are you ok?”

Dean let the rest of the water in the t-shirt course down over his chest as he looked over at Cas. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. His friend was frozen in place, staring at him, but it wasn’t his usual stare. He seemed stunned. His lips were slightly parted and he had a glazed look in his eyes.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

That snapped Cas out of his stupor. His jaw worked to speak, but no sound came out and he immediately looked down, scrambling to finish collecting his clothes. They slipped off of his arm, but he caught them and then quickly exited the water.

“You wanna rinse off a little?” Dean asked.

“I’m fine. We should go,” Cas answered brusquely. He looked determined to leave immediately whether anyone followed him or not.

Dean and Jack both felt the sudden urgency.

Jack swished the scrubs quickly in the water, as he’d seen Dean do, then hurried to catch up with Cas. He wrung the pants out as he ran.

“Ok,” Dean said, mostly to himself, as he quickly tied his boot. He wasn’t sure if his friend sensed some kind of danger or if he was angry about something or if he was just having some sort of ‘Cas’ moment that no one would ever really understand. Whatever it was, he looked upset, so Dean didn’t dawdle.

He grabbed his t-shirt and took off after the two of them. He caught up as they exited the woods into the field.

Cas didn’t slow at all or look behind to make sure they were following. He just broke into a very fast trot and made a beeline for the bunker.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Jack stayed close behind Cas, looking every bit the duckling struggling to keep up with its mother. His wet, crud-covered wings stuck out to either side of him at awkward angles and continued to shed water, various bits of soggy, woodland detritus, and small clumps of goo. They bounced slightly with every step.

Dean scanned their surroundings. It wasn’t as though he’d felt all that secure on the way out here, but with his pistol probably out of commission, he knew they were even more vulnerable. Cas had his blade - Cas always had his blade - and between the two of them they could certainly take out a decent sized swarm of bad guys. Jack, though, was unarmed and without control over his mojo, he was mostly defenseless. The kid didn’t know how to fight anyway, so it didn’t matter. It occurred to Dean that maybe some hand to hand combat training should be moved a little higher up on his educational to-do list.

Without warning, Jack popped his wings fully open to either side and shook them violently. He then raised them and flapped twice.

The resulting deluge sprayed backward, completely dousing Dean in water and mess. He broke stride and took a moment to clear it off of his face. Jack didn’t seem to notice what he’d just done and Dean honestly didn’t feel like having to correct the kid again. He just stayed quiet and took it. When he caught up with them again, he moved himself in front of the boy so he could walk at the grown-up angel’s side and stay out of range. He needed to talk to Cas anyway.

“You ok,” Dean asked. His friend was walking very quickly, holding his wings out at a strange angle behind himself.

“Yes,” Cas lied. He said nothing more. He didn’t even look at Dean.

“What happened back there?” Dean pressed. “Did you sense something? Or hear something? Is there somethin’ out here?”

“There’s nothing out here...we just need to get back.”

Dean stared at him while they walked. It was a long stare. Cas finally let his gaze flicker over to him and then immediately looked straight ahead again.

“Are you pissed at me about somethin’?”

“I’m not…” Cas huffed in frustration. “I’m not _pissed_ about anything. I just want us to get home.”

“Huh,” Dean grunted, still staring at him. He turned his gaze forward for a moment, thinking. Then he turned back to the angel. “Yeah, I'm not buyin’ it.”

Cas came to an abrupt halt and stared at Dean. He looked furious. The hunter also stopped, staring right back at him.

Jack nearly collided with Cas’s extended wings. He flapped his own wings once, to stop himself. Dean’s entire side was completely coated with splatter again. Cas got a nice coating this time, too.

They both looked back at Jack.

The boy realized what he’d done and swallowed. “Sorry,” he whispered, and tucked his wings a bit tighter.

Dean wiped the side of his face with his t-shirt and turned his attention back to Cas.

“Just talk to me.”

“There is _nothing_...to talk about!” Cas insisted, making it very clear with his tone and body language that there was definitely something to talk about. Dean slowly shook his head in frustration. “We’re too exposed out here,” Cas continued. “We need to get inside. Will you _please_ just drop this?”

“NO!” Dean barked.

Cas glared at him and started to say something, but stopped himself. He looked back at the boy. “Come on, Jack,” he ordered and took off again. Jack looked at Cas leaving, then at Dean’s furious face and then back at Cas. He lowered his head and his gaze and very quickly detoured around the man to catch up with his mentor.

Dean stormed after them both. He took only a few steps at a fast walk, before breaking into a jog, passing Jack again and lining up with Cas.

“I’m not droppin’ it. Not this time,” Dean informed him. “See, I did some thinkin’ while you were gone. And I’ve done a hell of a lot more since you’ve been back, and I decided we’re not doin’ this shit anymore.”

“ _You’ve_ decided?!” Cas sneered, never breaking stride. Dean didn’t give him a chance to continue.

“Yes!  ‘Cause I figure all three of us lost our ‘I’ll fix it on my own and not tell anybody’-privileges about three apocalypses ago, but we keep doin’ it anyway. Not anymore! So, no...I’m not gonna drop it!”

Cas stopped again. He rolled his head and raised his arms partway in a gesture of complete exasperation.

Dean noticed his wings mirrored the arm gesture exactly. They also arched a bit and seemed to bristle. It looked shockingly Cas-like and it occurred to Dean that those weren’t just things growing out of Cas’s back. Those wings actually _were_ Cas - the _real_ Cas - perfectly expressing the same defensive fury and shitty attitude currently coming from the angel’s vessel. Dean knew he’d think it was really cool if his friend weren’t being such a dick.

“IF...there were something I needed to tell you, I would tell you. There isn’t. I’m fine. Now can we please get inside before someone or something spots us?”

Dean sighed in disgust and shook his head. “Yeah. You’re _fine_. Got it.” He spat the words out, more frustrated with the angel than he had been in a very long time. He was the one to restart their march toward the bunker. His stride was just as fast and angry as Cas’s had been.

“I _know_ when you’re full’a shit. You get that, right?” Dean barked over his shoulder, after only a dozen or so paces. “You only have a decent poker face when you don’t know what the fuck is goin’ on. The rest of the time, _I know_ when somethin’s up. I just never know what it _is_ , so I can’t call you on it, until you’re already doin’ somethin’ stupid!”

They were all quiet the rest of the way. When they reached the exterior doors to the garage tunnel, Dean threw his t-shirt over his shoulder and began the arduous task of fishing the door key out of the pocket of his very wet and very tight jeans. His frustration grew and he was reaching critical anger levels when the pocket finally just inverted, spilling change and receipts everywhere. He didn’t bother picking any of it up. He shoved the key roughly into the lock and turned it. The mechanism gave and he opened the door.

“There isn’t anything-” Cas began, much less forcefully than before. Dean cut him off.

“I’m not burnin’ you again.” He glared at his friend, letting the rage keep him intact. “You got that? I’m not doin’ it, Cas. I can’t. I won’t. The sooner you get that through your thick skull the better.”

He turned and walked through the door into the dark tunnel. He didn’t stop or look back when the boy and the angel took a few moments outside the door to shake out their wings one last time. They both then followed the man, shutting and locking the door behind them.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Cas and Jack walked slowly, so by the time they reached the inner garage doors, Dean had already stripped out of his boots and jeans and was adjusting the temperature of the water coming out of the hose. He began spraying himself down. He pulled the waist of his dark boxers open so he could rinse the grit collected there and let it wash away down his legs.

No one spoke. Cas simply pat the top of one of Jack’s wings, indicating he wanted the boy to open them.

Jack obeyed. He stood still as Cas began the arduous task of picking out all of the larger pieces of debris still stuck in the thick clumps of white feathers. Jack watched him, but he also kept casting worried glances at Dean.

Cas noticed his concern. When the boy happened to glance up, Cas gave him a tiny smile of reassurance and just shook his head. Jack got the hint.

“Hey. Where are you?” Dean’s voice broke the silence. He had his phone to his ear.

Cas squinted at him. He couldn’t understand how Dean’s phone survived that deluge.

“So, what, twenty minutes?” Dean asked. “Ok, do me a favor...there’s pizzas and drinks in the Impala. Bring ‘em in, when you get here, will ya?” (pause) “We’re in the garage. We had a little _incident_ out at the swimming hole. Everybody’s gettin’ cleaned up.” (pause) “Nah, we’re good. Just dirty. Gritty. Brought half the damned creek back with us, from the looks of it.” (pause) “I don’t wanna track this crap all over. The bathrooms aren’t big enough, anyway. ” (pause) “They’ve both got their wings out. They’re freakin’ huge.” (pause) Dean snorted. “Yeah, bring that stuff in and come up here. You gotta see this.”

Cas clicked his tongue in disgust. He frowned at Dean, who ignored him entirely and hung up the phone.

“You could at least ask us first,” Cas grumbled.

“What... _Sam_ doesn’t get to see ‘em?”

Cas’s frown persisted as he pulled another clump of leaves and mud out of Jack’s feathers. It splatted thickly onto the cement floor. “Actually, you’re...surprisingly accepting.” He ventured a quick glance at his friend. “Most humans have a rather strong reaction to seeing an angel’s true-form partially manifested.”

“Well, I’ve seen just about every freaky thing there is, plus been to Hell, Heaven _and_ Purgatory, and watched God and his Sister hold hands and float away, so, ya know...call me crazy, but maybe I’m not your average human.” Dean snapped.

“Why did you lie, Castiel?” Jack blurted before either of them had a chance to continue.

Cas stopped his grooming and stared at the boy. Jack was squinting back at him - frowning.

“He’s angry because you said nothing was wrong. But something _was_ wrong. I could see it, too.” His frown deepened. “You should tell him the truth.”

Dean snorted. He’d just finished rinsing the gunge off of his jeans and t-shirt and was wringing them out.

Cas’s face paled. He looked from Jack to Dean and back again at least twice while he scrambled for a response. Both of them were looking at him. Neither was likely to let this go.

“Huh...kid’s got a point, Cas,” Dean snarked

Jack turned his frown on the hunter. “There are things you don’t tell Castiel, too. I can see it in the way you look at him, sometimes - like you want to say it, but you always stop yourself. You should just tell him.”

It was Dean’s turn to freeze up. He went slightly pale as well and he shot a quick, paranoid glance at Cas, before turning his whole focus back to wringing out his clothes.

“I’m not hidin’ anything,” Dean said. He tossed his clothes and boots into the stairwell and took a couple of steps closer so he could begin rinsing Jack’s wing with the hose. “Tell me if this temp is too hot or cold.” He began spraying.

Jack flinched from the sudden sensation and his wing flicked away. He quickly put it back, so Dean could continue.

“Too hot?”

“No, it just… It feels weird. The pressure. It’s ok, though.”

Cas continued to groom the other wing. He looked deep in thought.

Jack watched him, though he kept getting distracted by the sensation the sprayed water was causing in his wing. He winced a few times, trying to ignore it.

“Why won’t you tell him?” he asked his mentor.

Jack’s tone was sincere and Cas knew he’d need to explain somehow. He didn’t want Jack to think of him as a liar. There was a difference between lying on a hunt and lying to a friend. Jack needed to understand that difference, so Cas needed to set a good example...except there was no way he could tell the boy the whole truth.

“I was thinking about something, Jack. When you and Dean were trying to clean yourselves.” He sent several more clumps of debris splatting onto the floor and let his gaze briefly meet Jack’s. “It was...something I shouldn’t have been thinking about. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Jack considered that for a moment.

“What was it?”

Cas responded with clear irritation and Jack got the message.

“Nothing worth talking about,” Cas said, after he’d let his attitude go. “I’m not making plans or sensing anything worrisome. They were just...thoughts. Nothing more.”

Dean had gotten close enough to hear. He was making much better time cleaning the inside of Jack’s wing with the constant stream of water than Cas was doing it by hand. The floor was covered in leaves and mud and grit. He had to stop a few times to clear it off of the top of the drain grate to keep the water from pooling.

When he got close to the boy’s shoulder, Cas stopped him.

“This area, from here to where the wing joins his back, is much more sensitive. I’ll help him with that.” Cas motioned over the top of the boy’s wing. “Please, if you could continue on the backs of his wings…”

Dean looked at him curiously, but didn’t argue. He simply pulled the slack in the hose out of the way and walked around to the back. When he began again with the long flight feathers, Jack’s entire wing shivered involuntarily. Dean stopped. He pulled the long feathers down a little so he could peek over the top edge.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “It just feels really weird.”

“You ok, though?” Dean asked.

“Yeah...I mean...it feels good. And the spots that are already clean feel a lot better. Thank you.”

“Ok,” Dean said. He looked a little wary, but he continued. “You just say somethin’ if you need me to stop.”

“Ok,” Jack answered.

They spent the next ten minutes or so in relative silence, while the man and the angel worked. When they did speak, it was only in brief phrases - twice when Jack shivered violently and Dean again checked he was ok, and once when Cas noticed the boy’s human body was responding in a less than dignified way to the constant stimulation of his wings.

The angel hurriedly, but very surreptitiously showed him how he should bunch up the scrubs and hold them in front of his genitalia. He very sternly instructed him to keep them in place, and cut him off when Jack began asking a question about that part of his anatomy. Cas assured him there was another book he should read.

All of this was done just below Dean’s threshold of hearing, hidden by the sounds of spraying and dripping water.

The inner garage doors opened and Sam popped into view, right as Dean was finishing the back of Jack’s second wing.

“Hey,” Sam called out before the sight in front of him halted all further comment. He stared shamelessly as he approached.

“Hi, Sam!” Jack piped up with a huge grin and lifted one hand to wave. Cas quickly grabbed his wrist and guided it back down to the bundled scrubs.

“Jack. Wow, those are...amazing,” Sam managed to babble out. It took several seconds for him to realize Cas’s wings were visible, too. The seraph had them mostly closed, and they looked covered in grime and gunk, but they were still just as surprising. Sam gaped.

“Whoa! Cas!” he blurted. “That’s...wow, those are...wow!”

“Well said, Sam,” Dean praised. “College really paid off, huh?”

“Shut up,” Sam answered, never even looking at his brother.

“You get the stuff brought in?”

“Yeah, it’s downstairs in the kitchen. Cas?” Sam asked, moving closer to his friend. “Um...i’m not sure how they’re supposed to look, but are yours...bleeding?”

Cas glanced back over his shoulder at the angry red scars that had been slowly abraded by the grit as he’d walked back to the bunker. He hadn’t been able to hold his wings open enough to avoid it.

“It’s alright. They’ll heal, once they’re clean.”

“Whoa!” Dean exclaimed, having abandoned Jack’s inner wing to check out what his brother was seeing. Sure enough, the skin on Cas’s wings was just as angry looking on Dean’s side. He’d been so focused on Jack, he hadn’t noticed. “Hold ‘em out, I’ll rinse the grit off.” Dean raised the hose toward his friend’s wings and Cas snapped them all the way shut. He winced and let out a soft grunt.

“They’re fine. Please just...finish Jack’s wing. I can take care of my own when he’s done.”

Dean frowned. He shook his head slowly and went back to work on Jack’s wing.

Sam began a tentative line of questioning, mainly involving manifestation and when and why angels chose to do it. He asked about some of the more obvious characteristics and then about the differences between an angel’s wings and those of birds.

Cas answered each question as best he could. It was only the questions about sensation and maintenance that he seemed to dodge rather obviously. Sam got the hint. He didn’t push.

When Dean had finished the second wing up to the same spot where he’d stopped on the other one, Cas took the hose from his friend and asked for a bucket. Sam handed him the one Dean usually used to wash the Impala. It was clean enough.

“If you could please give us a few minutes of privacy?” Cas asked the two men.

They both seemed a little surprised by the request but, again, they did as he asked and ended up facing away from the angel and the nephilim, leaning against the railing near the stairs. Dean had already acclimated to the sight of giant wings sprouting out of the backs of their two roommates, but Sam was only able to keep himself from looking back at them through an act of sheer will. He spent the next several minutes annoying Dean by being twitchy.

Cas filled the bucket again and again, using it to gently rinse the delicate innermost areas of Jack’s wings. The boy shivered through it, very aware, now, of how the pressurized water would have felt back there and grateful to Castiel for stopping Dean.

When both wings were finally clean, Cas steered Jack to the far end of the garage.

“Step outside, just far enough to spread your wings fully and flap them until most of the water has been shed. I’ll ask Sam to go with you. If it’s safe enough, spend a few minutes in the sun. They’ll dry a bit faster.”

Jack nodded.

“When you’re done,” Cas continued, ”have Sam locate the book I want you to read. Tell him it’s the one I recently translated from Gaulish. He’ll know where it is. You should probably eat first, then I want you to take the book to your room and read it. You can ask me any questions when you’ve finished, but please...no more questions until then.”

Cas stood with his hand resting reassuringly on his young friend’s shoulder. Jack looked back at him and nodded obediently.

“Alright,” Cas murmured. He leaned in a bit closer and lowered his voice even more. “When you read the part about preening, you’ll notice the book...doesn’t have a very good explanation. I’m going to show you - _only once_...just so you’ll know how to do this without...hurting yourself. Remember - this is something you do yourself or with your companion.” He paused, thinking through all the possible addendums to that statement and knowing that saying any of them would only serve to thoroughly confuse the boy. He refocused and continued. “After this, it’s up to you to preen as needed, on your own. In private. Do you understand?” He waited for Jack to acknowledge him. Then, with a single nod, he shifted his position. “This will feel...strange.”

Again, Jack nodded and he held his breath as Cas reached under the boy’s left arm and slid his hand to the crease between his wing and back.

In one quick move, Cas stroked firmly along both sides of that small lump with thumb and finger, squeezing lightly behind a bulb under the skin and pulling off downward.

Jack let out a small cry and his knees slightly buckled. Cas caught him and held him steady with his other hand.

“You ok?” Dean called to them.

“Yes,” Cas answered. He moved his hand out from behind Jack’s back and showed it to the boy. There was a thin layer of clear oil coating the seraphs fingers. It glistened in the overhead light.

“Hold out your hand,” he instructed. Jack did and Cas transferred most of the oil to the boy’s palms. “Coat the palm, fingers and thumb. Both hands. Take each feather individually, at the base of the quill, and glide the hand down in one firm stroke. Use the thumb and fingers to pinch any frayed barbs back together. That may take one or two additional strokes.” He began demonstrating on one of Jack’s uppermost feathers. They’d dried off the most. The boy imitated his actions on several feathers until Cas seemed satisfied.

Jack was having difficulty. He could replicate the motion, but while Cas seemed to be able to turn a badly frayed feather into a shiny, perfectly shaped one with a single drag of his hand, it took Jack five or more strokes to get the same result. In the end, the feather was saturated with more oil than it needed. He sighed in mild frustration.

“I need to do this on every feather?” He looked incredulous. The task was daunting. It would certainly take hours. He reached down and took hold of the scrubs where he’d tucked them between his legs for this demonstration and he once again covered himself.

“Yes, but you won’t have to do this often,” Cas assured him. He continued to condition more feathers until the oil on his hand had been used up. “Also…it’s important that you allot enough time for recovery afterward. The stimulation of your wings and the repetitive expression of oil will usually leave you a bit... _unmotivated_ to do much else for a while. You’ll find it rather… Um...” He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a human equivalent the boy might understand. “ _Relaxing,_ ” he finally settled on.

“This is why having a companion is helpful, isn’t it?” Jack asked, already suspecting it might be extremely difficult to reach certain areas of his wings.

“It’s one of the perks, I suppose,” Cas smiled and chuckled.

“We could be companions, couldn’t we? We’re already friends, and I love you. If you needed help with your wings, I could help you.”

Cas’s smile grew and he gave the boy another reassuring pat on his shoulder. “No more questions. We’ll talk again after you’ve read the book. I promise. Now...go ask Sam to help you.”

Jack turned to walk toward the two men and Cas called out to him. “We _are_ friends, Jack. You’re right about that. And...I love you, too.”

The boy gave him another huge smile, and walked over to the two men. Cas made his way back to the bucket and began filling it, as Sam lead Jack out through the tunnel. He waved his thanks to his friend.

The garage was quiet again. Cas waited patiently for the bucket to fill, then stood and began rinsing himself. Cleaning his human vessel took very little time and only a couple of bucketfuls. His wings would not be so easy.

Cas tried to pour the water in a smooth, controlled line across the tops of his wings, at first, but he found he couldn’t easily get his wings to stretch forward enough. They were extremely stiff after all of the intense activity and even trying to assist the movement using his arms was not effective. They just couldn’t stretch that far right now.

The wrestling match had been a foolish decision. He’d known the instant he manifested his wings and tried to open them that he shouldn’t use them for anything strenuous. He’d done it anyway. Apparently, self-control and restraint were not high enough on his list of priorities, at the moment. It was something he knew he’d need to remedy...fast. Especially if Dean intended to continue to walk around in nothing but a pair of wet boxers.

He lined up another bucketful, aiming it at the unreachable mid-section of one wing, and attempted to throw the water instead of pouring it. The twisting motion of the toss also moved his wing and Cas was too stiff to counter. The water missed his wing entirely and splatted onto the floor behind him. He stared back at his wing, focusing and trying to get it just a little further forward. It moved maybe an inch and he gave up.

Resigning himself to what would likely be a very long grooming session, he squatted down and began filling the bucket again. It was halfway full when two bare feet appeared in his peripheral vision.

He looked up just as Dean leaned over and gently tugged the hose out of his hand.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

“Just...stay well away from where my inner wing joins my vessel,” Cas instructed nervously.

Dean nodded once and raised the hose to begin.

“And mind the pressure,” Cas blurted, eyeing the hose like it was a predator about to attack him. Dean lowered the hose and looked at him - listening. “There’s too much with the trigger pulled all the way...it’s not...it causes...um...there’s too much pressure.”

Again, Dean nodded and raised the hose.

“Maybe I should just try using the hose...for...some of it. Most of it. I should try...again...I mean...” Cas trailed off. He let his eyes flicker up to meet Dean’s for an instant before looking away.

Dean sighed heavily while Cas was still in mid-sentence. He lowered the hose and rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb.

“Cas,” he groaned. He swiped his hand down his face and looked back at his friend, trying to control his exasperation. “To get the water on your wings you gotta bend ‘em forward. I just watched you try, and you can’t. They’re too stiff. But you’re tellin’ me that somehow, all of a sudden, that’s changed and you’re gonna be able to do this by yourself?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Bullshit.”

Cas stared Dean in the eye and stood up a bit straighter. He tried to put on an expression of anger and defiance but it immediately felt absurd, given the circumstance. Dean was right and he knew it. He needed help.

The defiance vanished and he slumped, looking utterly defeated.

Dean’s demeanor softened. He crossed his arms, thinking, and rocked slowly back on his heels.

“I’ll take the nozzle off. That’ll take the pressure way down. It’ll be more like the bucket pour. That should help, right?” Dean coaxed. Cas swallowed and stared at the hose...then nodded.

“Ok,” Dean mumbled. He backed up and undid the nozzle, sending a spray of water several feet as he untwisted it and released the built up pressure. He took another moment or two to check the temperature and then stepped forward again, getting close enough to Cas to reach his wing. Cas had them both tucked tightly behind his back...and he was still eyeing the hose with barely concealed terror.

“I just did Jack’s wings. The kid didn’t die. You think you could trust me a little here?”

“Of course, I trust you. But, there’s more to it than...just…” Cas swallowed and glanced over his shoulder at his filthy wing.

“More to it how?” Dean asked.

“It’s, um...I...I can’t really...explain-”

“Look...Cas… I’m hungry... Ok? And tired. And I’ve been standin’ here in wet boxers for twenty minutes - I’m freakin’ _cold_! Can you just let me help you get cleaned up so we can go downstairs? Please?” Dean was trying to buffer his frustration, but it still came through.

Cas nodded apologetically. “Yes, of course.” He took a moment to pull himself together and then slowly began to open his left wing. Dean waited until he could clearly see the patch that looked extremely sore and raw and then reached forward with both hands and the hose. Cas grabbed his forearm.

“They’re damaged,” Cas said in little more than a whisper. The look on his face held a multitude of unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Dean’s attitude softened again. He flashed his friend a tiny, conspiratorial grin.

“They’re awesome,” he said, and his grin broadened into a devastating smile.

Cas stared at him for a long moment, before his expression finally cracked and he slowly smiled back. He looked away then, and nodded for his friend to proceed.

“Ok,” Dean said, sounding pleased, like he was about to dive into a new project under the Impala’s hood. “Ten minutes, and I’ll have you all clean and shiny...ready for picture day at school.” His smile grew as he got to work.

 

* * *

 

It was a mistake... a colossal, irreversible, dangerously satisfying mistake. Cas knew it the moment Dean began pouring that gloriously warm water over his wings.

He really did need the assistance. He couldn’t deny that. And Dean clearly wanted to help; in fact, it seemed inordinately important to him that he be allowed to help, which was a large part of the reason Cas had acquiesced. Still...he knew better than to do this. He _absolutely_ knew better.

Dean’s removal of the hose nozzle caused the water to spill out smoothly with much less force. He’d also set the temperature to something just shy of Nirvana. Cas had to concentrate to keep himself from moaning when the warmth poured over his sore joints.

After a quick pass with the hose across the top edge of the wing, Dean reached up with his free hand and began using it to separate the uppermost row of feathers from those below. He slid his entire forearm under them, lifting so he could aim the flow of water at the tender skin.

Cas closed his eyes. That whole area had been one gigantic knot of cramps for over a year and the instant his friend raised those feathers, the knot began to unravel.

Dean was good at this. Really good. Cas had no explanation for it. To his knowledge, his friend hadn’t had intimate interactions of any kind, with any angel, other than Anna, and he was certain she’d been unable to manifest her wings, at the time. He couldn’t imagine how Dean would know to lift the feathers that way, with just that amount of force, at exactly the right angle. It felt amazing.

“That ok?” Dean asked when he felt a shiver run through Cas’s wing.

Cas gave a very quick side-eyed glance, nodded, and went back to staring at the floor. He looked about as relaxed as a trapped animal.

Dean frowned at the obvious lie and slowly shook his head. He finished rinsing and began to pull his forearm away, but stopped when his hand brushed over a large, angry knot of muscle. He rested his warm palm right over the lump and, with the perfect amount of pressure, began to massage.

Cas’s knees nearly buckled. ' _TELL HIM!’_ his mind screamed. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when Dean moved his hand dangerously close to the underside of the ‘wrist’ joint.

Cas willed himself to ignore the sensation, but it was a losing battle. Dean’s palm and thumb cupped, and kneaded, and caressed…unwittingly doing things that Cas never would have even admitted to _fantasizing_ about, much less ever asked someone to do to him. It felt unbearably good, but the massaging wasn’t the worst of it - Dean had begun using his fingers to _spread_ the feathers. He slid his fingertips along the tender skin, slicking the way with warm water, until they were buried in the layer of down…and then he opened them…spread his long fingers wide and let the water pour through the gaps.

 _‘He doesn’t know, Castiel. He’s your best friend and you’re LETTING him do this! TELL HIM... you SELFISH, PERVERTED, SON OF A-'_ He didn’t finish that thought. Dean moved his hand into the tender groove under the wrist and Cas’s knees actually _did_ buckle this time.

“Hey, easy! Easy,” Dean scrambled to catch his friend. Cas had already corrected enough, but he’d definitely come close to falling. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Cas grunted out between two very ragged breaths.

“You’re not. You look like shit, Cas. What happened? That spot hurt or somethin’?”

“Really, I’m...I’m fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, ok,” Dean huffed and tugged at his arm, leading him over to one of the vertical I-beams. “Just...lean on this.” He made sure Cas had a solid grip on the steel and looked stable, before he let him go. He took a moment to pull a little more slack in the hose and check the water temperature again.

Cas almost stopped him. The pause was a natural break. It wouldn’t be as awkward, if he spoke up before Dean began again. He could just ask Dean to clean the raw spots - the rest of his wing would be ok. He’d go back to the swimming hole in a few hours, when it was clear again, and get them the rest of the way cleaned. He could do this.

He resigned himself to the loss of Dean’s wonderful pampering, and quietly cleared his throat, preparing to speak.

Dean dove back in without warning, raising another row of sensitive feathers with his forearm and inundating the entire section of the wing with liquid glory. His fingers went right back to work.

Cas snapped his mouth and his eyes shut - his resolve crumpled like a weak gazelle.

‘ _THIS is who you are, now... Well done. You’ve managed to become pathetic in every possible way._ ’ He squeezed the edges of the I-beam until his knuckles turned white. He had to concentrate to keep from deforming the steel. Even at relatively low power, he could do it, and that kind of intense reaction would be difficult to explain...

 _‘Not if you tell him WHY, you miserable bastard! Not if he knows what he’s DOING to you! That would make it VERY easy to explain!’_ His shoulders slumped. He knew he’d never forgive himself for this.

Dean was working more quickly, now. He’d gotten a rhythm going and the grit and debris was washing away completely in just one pass with the hose. He no longer needed to backtrack as often. The only thing slowing him down was the extra care and attention he was paying to the areas that looked raw and a little bloodied. He kept the water on those for longer, getting them extra clean. He’d also noticed which actions caused Cas’s muscles to relax and he focused more of his efforts on repeating those whenever and wherever he could.

Cas quietly marvelled at his friend, despite his own raging guilt. Everything Dean was doing was sending waves of relaxation and pleasure through his true form. He knew he shouldn’t be too surprised - Dean was brilliant and talented and shockingly capable in so many ways. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that he’d be good at this, too, but Cas was still amazed. Dean made it seem so effortless…as though he’d been created for this...divinely blessed with all the right skills to assist his angel...

 _That_...was a radically unhelpful thought. Cas’s mind latched onto it and sent it straight into the boiling vortex of sexual fantasies he’d unwillingly developed during his time in this vessel. It cleaved itself in like a virus - permanently overlaying the faces and bodies of strangers he’d seen in porn videos, with the glorious image of a wet, half-naked Dean, glistening in the sunlight. His imagination then supplied a dozen _new_ scenarios, all of them with Dean _completely_ nude, in extremely erotic positions, and buried elbows deep in feathers that looked suspiciously familiar.

Cas closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the flat front of the I-beam. He began silently reciting an ancient prayer for mercy, on the off chance his Father might actually come through this time and burn out that whole section of his consciousness.

Instead, his mind conjured a vivid image of Dean lying naked across a carved stone altar, slowly pouring scented oil over himself and smiling.

Cas pulled his head back an inch or so and let it fall forward to thud against the steel. He repeated this several times.

Dean was just finishing the left wing. He didn’t see the head banging, but he did notice a slight change in Cas’s demeanor.

“Still doin’ ok?” Dean asked. He ran his hand along Cas’s upper spine and ended by giving the back of his neck a reassuring squeeze.

“Mmmhmmm,” Cas lied. He thought he tasted blood. It was a reasonable assumption - he was fairly certain he’d bitten through the inside of his bottom lip trying to keep from screaming. He quickly healed the wound and swallowed the remaining blood.

“Tell me if you need to stop...‘r if you want me to do somethin’ else.”

Cas nodded while he forcibly shoved out the images his mind supplied in response to that offer.

Dean got back to work on the right wing. He grunted and snapped his fingers.

“I know what’s missing,” he said entirely to himself. He dropped the hose on the floor and crossed the room at a quick trot.

Cas opened his eyes and stared longingly at his friend’s retreating back. He had no idea what was happening, but the sudden lack of stimulation gave free reign to the shrieking voice of reason in his head. His anxiety level shot through the roof.

_‘What are you going to tell him when he finds out what all of this means? And he is GOING to FIND OUT - you just translated an ENTIRE BOOK on the subject! SAM has already read it! JACK is reading it RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU INSANE?!’_

Dean switched on the boombox, turned it down to a decent volume, and trotted back.

Cas watched, unable to take his eyes off of him. Even in the harsh, unflattering lights of the bunker’s garage, with every detail and imperfection brought into sharp focus, Dean was beautiful… His smile, the way he moved and the sound of his voice, the scent of his skin… Dean smelled so good. So very, very good...

This was lust, pure and simple - the siren call of hedonism. He knew where it would lead. Knew it would be disastrous. Knew he was being amazingly stupid, and playing very fast and loose with his ability to control his angelic nature. He also knew if his friend didn’t put a shirt on and get away from him in the next minute, he was going to start begging The Empty to take him back.

_'What if you lose control? Harmonically bond?! What then? You KNOW it can happen, you idiot - you've done it to YOURSELF, before!’_

Dean picked up the hose and checked the temperature, then got back to work on the right wing. Once again, the natural moment to stop him was over.

Cas slumped.

_‘If you truly cared about him, you’d have stopped him already. You’ve proven yourself unforgivably selfish. The least you can do is spare him any further indignity. You have to stop him. And when he asks why...you have to tell him the truth. He’ll be disgusted. Of course he will. And he’ll be hurt. There’s no avoiding that, now. You waited too long. You betrayed his trust...again. He was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t want this with you. You need to accept that and stop him. For his sake.’_

Cas felt the metal give slightly under his right hand, when Dean used the same forearm lifting technique on the back of his wing and pushed the hose under the feathers. He let the sensation roll through him and then nodded once, resolved to finally do the right thing.

“Dean,” he began.

Dean pushed his whole hand into a particularly dense area of softer feathers close to the wing’s shoulder joint. He wiggled his fingers, lifting and separating the feathers and then lightly massaging to allow the water better access to the skin.

Cas flinched at the intense sensation and his wing pressed forward, causing a partially dried clump of dirt on his inner wing to press against his oil gland.

He audibly gasped but the noise was drowned out by the rapid movement of his wings. Both arched upward in a dramatic display and shuddered. All of his feathers lifted outward and water, dirt and debris showered down around him.

He was too shocked to warn Dean. It happened too fast. In truth, he didn’t even know it _could_ happen that fast. His mind scrambled for anything it could use as a brake, but the cascade of internal changes had already begun. There was nothing he could do to stop it, now. His core wavelengths were lining up, communicating, drawing and giving energy to one another, as needed, until they could vibrate as one, in perfect harmony.

He knew he had about two seconds before he’d turn into a blissed out ball of goo with a single focus and zero self-control... and Dean would witness every humiliating moment of it.

Crying out to the universe for help was useless, but his mind tried it anyway in one final desperate attempt to grab a hand-hold before he fell off the cliff.

The universe didn’t answer.

 _‘I’m sorry’,_ he tried to say _,_ but his voice failed him.

Then everything just...stopped...

 

* * *

 

It was like the first bright rays of dawn breaking through the shadows...illuminating what was hidden...driving away all doubts and fears.

He remembered, now, how peaceful it had been - that time in the cave, when he’d discovered the blissful joy of this aspect of his nature. It was the first and only experience he’d had with harmonic bonding and it had been glorious, even without a companion to bond with.

Tens of thousands of years had passed since then. He knew there were reasons he hadn’t done it again in all that time, but...none of them made sense right now. Why wouldn’t he want this? It was wonderful. His mind was so quiet. So free.

He could sense that his logical and moral faculties were trying to fight against this, for some reason, but...those thoughts were vague and distant. He concluded they must not be very important.

The universe was exquisite! It was light and life, perfect and unending. Darkness and confusion were merely constructs - they weren’t real. There was no reason for fear or pain. All those concerns he’d had moments ago were just garbled, illogical nonsense. Why worry when he had everything he could ever want or need, right here? He was home - Dean was safe by his side - they were together...bonded and content. All things were exactly as they should be. 

He relaxed his grip on the steel. His wings loosened and swayed lightly as they lowered back down from their dramatic arch. They were opened much wider than before and he held them low.

He glanced at each wing and marveled at how lovely they looked like this. He was offering himself without any sense of fear or shame, and it was easy. He couldn’t remember why he’d ever hesitated before. He knew he’d convinced himself long ago that he was better off without a companion, and he also knew that those reasons and arguments had seemed logical, at the time.

Right now, though, it all seemed enormously stupid. None of it mattered. The only thing that _did_ matter was the man standing behind him. His friend. Dean.

He vaguely heard Dean say something and another shiver ran through him. He thrilled at the thought that his companion might ask him for things. It didn’t matter what those things might be - he couldn’t wait for the chance to provide them. He’d give Dean anything - everything, if he wanted.

That thought continued to please him and his feathers puffed out again. He wiggled his few remaining flight feathers, closed his eyes, and let out a long, contented sigh.


End file.
